Try Not to Forget
by Sephrenia Whisp
Summary: A girl who's always loved Pan is touring London and happens upon the house where it all happened. When the boy comes for her, can she prove to him that it might be worth it to grow up?
1. Introduction: Getting to London

**Title:** Try Not to Forget

**Author Name:** Sephrenia Whisp

**Category:** Peter Pan, Adventure-Romance

**Rating:** T for romantic themes and tension

**Spoilers:** If you've never read the real, whole version of Peter Pan as well as seen the movie versions with Mary Martin and Kathy Rigby, the Disney version, Hook, and 2003's Peter Pan, you may not recognize all the subtle references I like to make. But you are welcome to read anyway. Just thought I'd list all the influences of it.

**Summary:** A girl who's always loved Pan is touring London and happens upon the house where it all happened. When the boy comes for her, can she prove to him that it might be worth it to grow up?

**Disclaimer:** I am not JM Barrie and don't own Peter Pan. Nor do I own any of the references made to things in London or about the books and movies about Peter Pan and Wendy. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's note:**Writing this, I wrote the romance first so I could see exactly how it would proceed. When it was the way I liked it, I began to write the filler adventures to give the story depth.

**PS: **_Everyone_ knows that Peter came for Wendy a few times, and then Jane, then there was Margaret, and Margaret's daughter after her. Well, suppose Margaret's daughter never had a daughter. In fact she may never have had _any_ children. Peter would no longer have a steady line of mothers. Would that be the end of it? I think not.

Try Not to Forget

Sarah strolled leisurely through the park taking it all in. She'd been in London only four days and had barely begun to see all the sights. She had been ecstatic when she found out her parents would allow her to go with a youth group to London for the good part of the summer. She had to check in occasionally, but she could do as she liked.

For the most part, she was following the suggested tour. Except for a few stops she added to fit her needs, most of the things she wanted to see were already on the list. For example, the Kensington Gardens was both on the list and somewhere she desperately wanted to go. The people who made the list knew what they were doing. Most of the extras were things from her favorite fantasy novels.

Oh what a romantic place they all made London out to be! And now they she was here, she had found little to contradict that view. London was brimming with adventure and Sarah wanted to experience all of it! The next day she planned to ride the train from Kings Crossing out to the country for a picnic. How lovely to have a picnic out in the country!


	2. In the Nursery

Chapter 1

A few days later she wandered through the residential blocks of old London looking for the address on the slip. She slowed as came to the house baring the address. She looked up to the window on the third floor, it seemed to sing to her senses. She stared at it in wonder, could that really be the house where so much had had begun . . . ?

"That's it," a voice stated.

"What?" Sarah said softly as she turned to see a small boy on a tricycle looking up at the same window.

"That's the house where it all happened," he looked at her.

As she looked into his small eyes, she knew they were thinking about the same thing. It was unspoken, but certain. "Is it?" she smiled.

"Yep. That very window. And you knew it, didn't you?" he looked at her.

His gaze was sure and yet soft. "I think I did," she looked up at it again, then back to the boy, "Thank you."

"Glad to be of service, later then?" he readied himself to peddle away.

"I hope so," she smiled as he went down the road.

She read the sign by the ground-floor window: _Darling Inn_ and went up to the doorway and inside. The front room was filled with sofas and plush chairs, with a reception desk by the hall's entrance. It seemed the Darling house was now a common bed and breakfast. Her group's travel vouchers were good most places, perhaps she could spend a few nights here. She approached the elderly woman smiling as she pulled out the coupons, "Do you accept these here?"

The woman smiled at her, "Yes we do. Shall we get you all figured out then?"

"Yes please," Sarah grinned.

* * *

Sarah closed the door after the bell hop had set down her suitcases and looked around the room.

This was the nursery.

The woman, Margaret, had told her it was usually available _because_ it was originally a nursery and not a proper room. Also, the people who stayed in the room felt odd about it and would ask to be moved. She was welcome to occupy it as long as she wanted for no one else would want to rent it for its unusual mystique. She, herself, was thrilled to stay there. She got herself set up, then examined every inch of the room. The window was like nothing portrayed before, yet exactly right. Three feet by six, easily passed through. Two stained glass doors, locking with a crystal knob. The sill was a foot deep, plenty of room to stand on. She saw many of the original furnishings had been replaced with newer replicas. The nightlights were electric but styled to look as if gas. The carpets the Edwardian style. She was in her glory. To sleep in this room of so much history would be exhilarating!

* * *

She spent her days looking at the sights and her nights in blissful peace. Seeing all the amazing things she'd always read about was astounding. She didn't see fairies in the meadows she visited, she couldn't find ghosts or specters, and she didn't meet any astounding caricatures. But she was content. London was wonderful!

* * *

Sarah awoke to a loud crash of dishes from downstairs followed by caterwauling . As she caught her breath she realized a cat must have knocked the dishes over, probably chasing a mouse. She glanced at the time and saw it was almost four. Too early to get up just yet, so she grabbed her book off the night-stand. She'd read four chapters when she heard the wind picking up. _Another storm_, she thought, _No gardens for me today I guess._

She went back to her reading and missed the creaking of the window, perhaps accounting it to the strong wind. But she didn't miss the patter on the window sill then onto the floor when the wind died and all went absolutely still . She looked over her book and let out a gasp with wide eyes.

A boy.

He spotted her and took a step. "Wendy?"

She put the book down and turned up the light slightly so he could see her, and see his mistake. He only smiled in what he thought was recognition. "Wendy," he beamed, "I've come for you."

"_Peter Pan_," she whispered in amazement under her breath.

His eyes clouded, "But you're _not_ Wendy."

"No, I'm not," she conceded.

"She grew up," he remembered.

"So has her daughter, and daughter's daughters," Sarah reminded him.

"Oh," his eyes darkened and he spat, "They've all grown up."

"Yes."

Peter looked at her blankly, "Who're you?"

"Sarah."

He smiled, "You aren't Danielle's daughter?"

"She didn't have any children."

"Then who are you?" he insisted

"A guest of the house," Sarah said safely.

That seemed to be a good answer because his mouth turned into a smile and he started looking about the room. The new furnishings seemed to captivate him. She got out of her bed and stood watching his movements. She looked him over and commented, "You don't look twelve."

"What?" he spun looking alarmed.

"You look almost fourteen." She shook her head, "But you were twelve when Wendy first visited you."

He looked down at himself, "I might have grown, _a little_. I've visited London often enough. I spend time in the Kensington Gardens. I still grow when I leave Neverland. Fourteen's still young, isn't it?" He squinted his eyes at her and looked her over, "How old are you?"

"Sixteen," she answered honestly.

"Is that grown up?" Peter floated sitting Indian style.

"I certainly hope not, I'm not ready to be grown up."

He smirked and floated to sit on the trunk, "Do you know stories?"

"What girl doesn't know stories?" Sarah laughed.

"What kinds of stories?" Peter pushed.

"All kinds," Sarah shrugged, "Any kind you can imagine."

"Stories with happy endings?"

"Um hmm."

"Stories about good and evil?"

"Yes."

"Stories with battles?"

"Of course."

"You've heard stories about me?" he cocked his head as he looked at her.

"Um, yes," she looked away from his gaze.

"Is my story told with a happy ending?" he asked seriously.

She looked up, "It doesn't really have an ending. It leaves the listener hanging."

The phrase seemed beyond him so she reworded herself, "The ending leaves the listener without knowing what happens to you."

He smiled softly, "As it should be," he smiled bigger, "For my adventures are not near over!"

Sarah shook her head complacently and sighed.

Peter nodded approval at her, "What you know of the stories is good, you will do."

"I will, will I?" Sarah smirked.

"Yep. You _will_ come won't you? And tell me stories?"

"To Neverland?"

"Of course!"

"How many other boys are there right now?"

"None, I have no men to command," he sighed, "That's why I was coming for a storyteller. I was bored."

"I see. If I go with you, I can't stay forever."

"I know," he said wistfully toying with a china doll on the armoire, "You never can. Just long enough for spring cleaning, stories, and a few adventures."

"If I come and tell you stories, will you tell me the truth about you so when I tell your story it's accurate." Sarah worded herself carefully.

He turned and asked suspiciously, "What do you mean the truth?"

"Your story has been told by so many people everyone tells it differently and I want to know your real adventures," she said smoothly.

He seemed relieved, "Seems fair, I want my stories told right. You'll come then?"

"Only for a few weeks," she reminded him.

"As you wish." He smiled and headed to the window pulling her along by her arm, "Let's go."

"Umm," she dug her feet in to stop, "Could I have a day to settle my affairs and pack a few things?"

"What?" he looked at her baffled and dropped her arm.

"Well I'm only renting this room, and I'd need a few things. Tooth and hairbrushes, I don't suppose I need shoes, and I might need—"

"I guess so," Peter interrupted to stop her. He knew how much girls could babble. "I shall come tonight?"

"Ohh, oh wait," another thing came to mind. Peter's unrivaled forgetfulness. "You won't have forgotten by tonight will you?"

"Me?" he asked innocently.

"Yes, if you leave for a day you may not remember me and come back years from now."

He thought about it a long moment, trying to come up with a solution on his own. "If I don't go back to Neverland but spend the day flying, I would remember to come back this evening."

Sarah smiled and grabbed a pen, "That may work, but I want to make sure. Give my your right hand."

"Why?" he backed away from her.

"I'm gonna write an 'S' on both sides of your hand so when ever you look at it you will remember to come for me later. I don't figure you can read, but you do know what that Sarah begins with an 'S' right."

"Yes, I do," he said grumpily.

"Give me your hand," she said motherly.

He eyed her, but finally gave it to her. She wrote on his palm and then turned his hand over to make another 'S'. Peter inspected it and nodded in approval. "Tonight then!" he smiled and flew out the window into the dawn, for Sarah had now only the day before Peter came for her.


	3. Lets Go

As soon as she knew Margaret would be awake and about, Sarah got dressed and went to pay her rent for another six weeks just to be sure. She told Margaret she would be out constantly and not to worry about or expect to see her very often. She tidied up her room and sorted through what she would need. She knew she would only need a few things in a primitive place like Neverland. She wouldn't need to look fancy or even wear shoes. She wouldn't need food or money.

She would want toothbrushes along with a supply of toothpaste. She grabbed her hair brush and a few scrunchies, but wouldn't need real hair supplies. She laid out two sets of T-shirts and shorts as well as plenty of underwear. A few medicinal items. She decided she wanted a smaller bag to carry the few items so she headed for the store. At an outdoor mall she found a shoulder sling-backpack and bought some sunblock. When she had everything she would need, she carefully packed it in the small bag. She put her other things in her big suitcase and put it in a corner of the room. She didn't want the maid to mess with any of her things

* * *

Waiting for nightfall was the longest wait she had ever experienced. It seemed an eternity. But shortly after the sun set Peter soared in through her window, beckoning her to fly away with him. She grabbed her things and looked up at him excitedly, "I'm ready."

"Good, let's go!"

He turned half way and pulled from his pocket glowing dust. She closed her eyes and smiled as she felt it tickle her face as he blew it on her. The joy of the moment was enough to bring her feet a foot from the ground. When she opened her eyes she saw Peter at the window, his hand out to her. She took it and was pulled out and up into the sky.

It was exhilarating to feel the wind rush past as she bolted through the air as Peter tugged her along. He needed only help her the first few moments as she grew accustomed to flying. She grew bolder and let go his hand to do somersaults and cartwheels. She flipped along roofs and darted in between chimneys. Peter watched with almost concern at first, then saw she was quite capable and enjoyed watching her learn what she could do. Giggling, Sarah spun up high and let herself free-fall back. Peter laughed and did his own tricks as they continued on their way.

As dawn approached, they reached Neverland. As soon as Peter showed her to a bed, she fell in to an exhausted and deep slumber.

* * *

Sarah quickly learned how truly magical a place like Neverland was. She discovered that you never got colds or became sick. However hard you played, you never became _too_ excessively dirty. Despite her having brought supplies for it, brushing ones teeth was unnecessary. Without effort ones teeth became pearl like and bad breath was unheard of. It was never too hot or too cold out. Wherever Peter was on the isle it was early summer time. It really was a place where you could forget yourself and your responsibilities. But Sarah worked hard not to forget. 


End file.
